Can't Help Me Now
by lovelylittlebook
Summary: He was waiting for somebody to help them. Anybody, really. And they would arrive. For him. But what about her? Who would save her? His desperate question would remain unanswered.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello my Imaginaries! **

**-Get it? My names Majestic… Imaginaries? No? I thought it was clever.**

**Hey guys, I got kind of bored and this really overwhelming… sad idea crept into my writer's mind, and of course I had to put it into words… Though I can't promise it to be exactly as I hoped.**

**P.S- For lack of determination to create a whole new character, I simply used my name with different characteristics than myself.**

**Whether you're familiar with my work, or are a new coming Imaginary, welcome!**

**Just a quick one-shot, hope you enjoy!**

Damon P.O.V

She didn't want this.

I could see it in her eyes, a deep fear that I had never seen before.

She was small; her unbelievably thin frame consisted of one hundred and thirty pounds at most, but she was strong.

Despite her physical appearance, she had something in her. A fire, a determination.

And I was seeing it now.

She was fighting against the inevitable panic attack to come, trying to control the ragged breaths racking her frame.

But I don't suppose any sane person _would_ want this.

I had taken her to a movie, some stupid comedy.

I loved seeing her laugh.

I didn't know how long ago that had been.

We'd both been taken. By who, we do not know.

Despite the fear that had taken control of her body, she was so beautiful.

Highlighted blonde hair, long curls cascading past her shoulders.

Bright green eyes, now wide with terror.

I tried again and again to fight against the harsh rope keeping me in my chair, but it wasn't budging.

"Majestic," my voice was hoarse. "Majestic, please just look at me."

Finally, as if for the first time realizing that I was here with her, her head snapped around, her eyes meeting mine.

"Damon," her voice was barely a whisper, but I could see her fighting her own fear. "Damon, what does he want with us?"

"I-I don't know," I admitted. "But I know that we're going to be alright, okay? I promise, we'll get out of this, and we can go home."

It was then that I could hear the heavy footsteps echoing around the poorly-lit basement.

A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, and even that flickered every now and then.

The wooden floor boards creaked with every step, and for the first time, I saw him.

He looked to be in his late twenties, dark hair, light blue eyes. A friendly smile set in place. Approachable. _Likeable._

He held a knife in his hand, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

But now, I stiffened as he got closer, and rather than turning towards me, his fingers trailed up Majestic's arm, her features hardened.

"What the hell do you want?" Her voice though shaky, held a defiant tone.

He ignored her question, walking around to her other side, crouching down next to her.

"You have very pretty eyes," he remarked.

Fear spread hot and fast through my veins, as he carefully brought the knife up, and carefully placed it flat against her jawbone.

"Do you feel that?" He asked, almost in awe.

"Feel _what?"_ She snapped, closing her eyes against his touch.

"The adrenaline of course!"

He seemed at glee, his smile only growing.

"You see, everyday life, is so boring, so… dull," he explained. "But every once and awhile, people like _me_ come along, and we shake things up, make it _exciting._"

"Is that was this is for you?" I growled. "Some sick… thrill ride?"

His expression turned cold, and this time, Majestic's breathing doubled in pace as he turned the blade against her neck, causing every muscle in my body to tense.

"Another word," his voice was sharp as the knife he held. "And she dies."

"Now," his voice returned to its original, calm tone. "I'm going to try something, okay?"

Never lifting the knife off her skin, he trailed it down to her collarbone.

"You can't scream."

With a flick of his wrist, a string of red blossomed across her collarbone.

She let out a pained cry, and my heart pounded painfully in my chest.

She was being hurt. I was supposed to protect her. I'd promised her time and time again that nothing would ever hurt her. I was failing.

He only gave her seconds to recover, before trailing the knife lower, directly below her ribcage.

Again, another slice, another strip of red, this one deeper than the last.

Remembering his threat, I had to bite my tongue to keep from speaking.

I winced, practically _feeling_ her pain as she let out a strained hiss through grit teeth.

I couldn't watch this. I didn't want to see her in such agony, but I couldn't look away. To do that would be equivalent to walking out and leaving.

And I would never leave her.

Because I loved Majestic, and to leave her to this would be… monstrous.

So, I watched, with pleading eyes and strained muscles.

Again and again he did it, asking her if she felt it yet, if she _understood._

With each new tear of her skin, her strength was tore down, and with one final slice of her ivory skin, she let out a scream.

A horrifying, bloodcurdling _scream,_ one filled with such pain, I thought the sound would drive me mad.

"_Enough!"_

I couldn't stop the enraged yell that escaped my throat.

"Stop," my moment of anger was over, and I was now pleading with this monster, bargaining.

"_Please. _Stop. She's had enough. Try me instead."

A beacon of hope now burned inside me. If I could get him to use me instead, buy us enough time, I could spare Majestic.

The police had to be coming by now, right?

"Come on," I encouraged. "Try me."

"_No."_

She'd found a new strength in her voice, her eyes pleading with mine.

"I can take it," she muttered. "Really."

Then, she turned to our kidnapper, a small smile in place. "I think I was just starting to get it."

My heart dropped to my stomach.

She was satisfying him, playing along with his sick mind.

She didn't want me to get hurt.

_Why?_ I silently pleaded, as if she could hear me. _Why would you do this to yourself? For me?_

_Let me help you_, I wanted to scream.

_Let me save you!_

Our attacker looked doubtful. Looking from me to her, back and forth again, until he slowly made his way back to Majestic.

"Okay," he was still unconvinced.

In the next number of seconds, he became determined, roughly grabbing her jawbone.

"_But,"___he hissed. "There will be no mistake this time."

I couldn't stop it.

There was nothing I could do to prevent what he did next.

I could only watch, as the already blood-soaked knife, was driven straight into her stomach.

A silent scream escaped her parted lips, as if she no longer had the energy to create the actual sound.

It seemed he'd grown tired of this game, because in the next number of seconds, he was gone.

She was now visibly shaking, and she struggled to swallow her own cries.

"D-Damon?"

If I hadn't seen her look up at me through glassy eyes, I probably wouldn't have known she'd spoken.

Her voice was barely audible.

"I'm really," she took a shaky breath. "I'm really tired."

"I know," I struggled to keep my voice steady.

"I know you are, but you've got to stay awake okay? You need to keep breathing alright? You're going to be fine; you're going to be alright."

She gave me a weak smile.

"I was so… scared. I thought he was going to hurt you."

My throat burned. "He didn't. I'm perfectly alright. Look, Majestic I'm fine."

She nodded, that beautiful smile growing.

And then… nothing.

She stops moving, breathing, her smile fading in and instant, her eyes still open.

There was no dramatic "I love you" spoken, no harrowing struggle, no time to hold her for the last time.

There was none of that.

She'd simply… faded. Right in front of me.

For a few moments, I kept entirely still, silent.

What had just happened?

What was going on?

"Majestic?"

She didn't move.

"Majestic, come on," I pleaded, my voice gentle and soft. "Come on love, please."

Nothing.

And then, it hit me with a harrowing force, crushing me, driving me insane in seconds.

I'd just watched the girl I love die.

Majestic was dead. _Dead._

She wasn't coming back.

I'd never see her smile again, never hear her laugh; never again tell her I loved her.

It was physically painful, a crushing weight, threatening to destroy my ribcage, wipe away my sanity.

My pain was quickly replaced with anger.

_You have very pretty eyes._

"You fucking _sick_ son of a bitch!"

I wanted him to come back. I wanted him to _dare_ try and touch me, to even look at me. I'd kill him. When he came back, when he decided it was my turn, I was going to _kill _him.

Though he never did.

Ten minutes later, the door to the basement was broken down, shouts of 'FBI' rung through the air.

My mind faintly registered the fact that in order for the FBI to show up, it means he'd killed others.

But I couldn't bring myself to care.

An agent had introduced themselves as Emily, but I couldn't find my voice.

I couldn't tell you what Emily looked like if you asked, for my eyes had never left Majestic's broken body.

I was right.

Help had been coming.

They were just too late.

**Just something quick XD Let me know what you think, remember that I love reviews!**

**This is a planned one-shot, but if you guys want more, I can add to this very easily XD**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. A Child's Innocence

**Hey guys! Sorry about my updating, but you requested a continuation of this… so here it is! Thanks you guys!**

JJ P.O.V

We see some very sick things in this line of work. We see countless bodies, families torn apart, people's minds lost to insanity.

Most people automatically assume that we get used to it, that it's gotten to the point, to where we don't care anymore.

Those people are stunningly, horrifyingly wrong.

You never get used to seeing people break down over the sadness of losing a loved one.

You cannot get used to seeing the body of someone who was killed before they even had the chance to live.

While Emily and Morgan worked with the boy across the room, Spencer and I were about to help the girl. There was so much blood… she couldn't have been older than seventeen.

In frenzy, I'd yelled for the paramedics, my hands working faster than my mind to get the rope off of her wrists.

It was Spencer, whose hands worked to stop mine.

"JJ," his voice was gentle but firm. "JJ, stop. She's gone."

I forced myself to look at a disgusting scene, one I'd been forced to look at too many times.

She was a petite girl, small for her age. Her skin, which once would have been a simple ivory, was now stained with blood.

Blood. All over her body, coating her.

Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes still open, their glassy color shaking me to my core.

"The-the boy."

I shook Spencer off of me, turning. The two of them couldn't be dead. Not both of these kids.

I couldn't control the sigh of relief that came with seeing the boy stand, Morgan and Emil having finally removed the tight ropes from his body, leaving angry red marks on his arms.

He kept his jaw locked, his gaze never leaving the young girl's body.

A sickening realization nearly crushed me.

We still had to question the boy.

This nightmare wasn't over for him.

**Don't worry, there will be more. **

**Thanks again guys!**


	3. Doppelganger

**Hey guys! As requested, here's another add on, the interrogation…**

**Hope you like!**

Damon P.O.V

I knew they were going to have to take me in, question me.

Whether they found me guilty or not, I didn't care.

They say Depression is a side effect of death, that those surrounded by death are more prone to develop it then others. But depression… it seems such a stereotypical way to describe this.

No, this was a feeling. An emotion.

This was rage, confusion, hurt and utter shock, all wrapped up into one.

I'd learned to not depend on people in my short eighteen years of life. My father had taught me that lesson. He loved the bottle more then he loved me. But hey. I'd grow used to it by the time I was fourteen.

But then I met Majestic, and she knocked me off my feet. She wasn't like other girls. She wasn't needy, didn't enjoy the all compassing center of attention.

And that's exactly why I felt to give just that to her.

It was because she didn't crave attention, that I gave all of mine to her. She captivated me as a person, so much more complex and different than what I'd grown used to in California.

For a moment, I could sit now, and concentrate. Force myself to go back. Go back to that sun filled place, the California heat was relentless, yet she was in a leather jacket, blonde curls cascading past her shoulders, a care-free smile in place. The first time I'd realized it. The first time I'd told her I loved her…

A heavy hand on my shoulder brought me slamming back into reality.

I was sitting in the ambulance, which had finally arrived. The night sky was pitch black, the streets still damp and the air still cold from the previous rain. I didn't register actual words, but yet I nodded and jumped off the back. They'd cleared me to go.

It was cruel really. Id suffered only minor rope burns, while she'd paid so much more.

As soon as I was out of the ambulance, I was guided by the Agent who'd tried to save Majestic.

_Who'd tried, and failed to save Majestic._

She was blonde, petite, blue eyes filled with sorrow.

She knew.

They all knew.

I could see by the way they held themselves.

They knew she was dead.

And they pitied me for it.

I never really registered the fact that rather than a police car, I was begin taken in an SUV, never really processed sitting in the cold metal chair.

It wasn't until I was staring at my reflection did I completely understand that I'd been moved. Or… what was supposed to be my reflection.

I didn't recognize the boy staring blankly back at me. This version of me held no emotion, no indication to prove that he wasn't made of stone. I tried smiling, and something about the lions grin that greeted me back unnerved me.

The door on the other side of the room opened, and I nearly winced, my senses all too keen to the loud crash as metal collided with metal.

But the boy staring back at me didn't move and inch, didn't even blink. Just grinned back at me, though I was positive that I'd stop smiling nearly a minute ago.

It took me awhile to recognize the first agent.

Emily... had that been her name?

The second one was a man, though he seemed more distracted than anything. He was much younger than I'd expect out of the FBI.

Emily. I'd gotten her name right.

She introduced the other as Dr. Reid.

My intent was to focus on their questions, answer as honestly as I could, just so I could go home, but before they could even begin to speak, something stopped me.

_Damon._

My name. So faint I was sure I'd been mistaken, yet I was positive I'd heard it.

"Damon, can you tell us what happened the night you went missing?"

I was completely ready to brush the thought away, and answer their question to the best of my ability, but then again, this time louder, more prominent in my head.

_Damon!_

This time I was sure I'd heard it, but there was one chilling fact that made me stiffen, freeze on the spot.

My heart pounded in my chest, while my mind raced to make sense of it all.

It had been a voice I could never mistake, never misplace, and never forget.

Majestic.

It had been Majestic's voice.

Everything became louder, sharper, clearer and slower.

_Why didn't you help me?_ _You could have saved me, Damon!_

"I'm sorry."

I couldn't stop the pathetic whimper from escaping my throat.

"I'm sorry! I tried but there was nothing… nothing I could…"

_You told me you loved me, but you let me die Damon. _

Her voice was broken and filled with sorrow and betrayal.

"_No!" _

I'd yelled with such a force, a shudder wracked through my whole body.

I needed to make her realize, I needed to make her remember.

"No, I did, I do! I couldn't… I couldn't..."

Everything… just stopped.

My heart rate slowed, everything was suddenly back to normal.

I forced myself to look up.

Only three minutes had passed.

But it was then that I glanced at the mirror again.

And there he sat.

The version of me I could no longer recognize his eyes black and dark, that grin of insanity and pleasure seared on his face.

I had not done this.

_He had._

"_You._"

I was seething, realization setting in.

He remained silent as the grave, watching me.

Taunting me.

"You did this! You _killed _her."

I could see the Agents confused look, see their frantic mouths moving to try and calm me, but nothing but a dull ringing filled my ears.

"Don't you see?" I growled at the two Agents before me.

"_He did this to her."_

They needed to see him, to understand.

_Damon, you killed me!_

"_No! No, no, no!"_

Suddenly, two heavy hands were weighing down on my shoulders, trying to keep me in place.

I thrashed and I struggled to push them off.

"I promised her!" I screamed, realizing even as I did so that my voice was laced with something wrong.

Almost insanity.

"I promised I'd_ save_ her, take her home! _I promised her_!"

I fought them, and I yelled and I screamed, never taking my eyes off the mirror.

The mirror.

This still showed the shadowy, ever so calm demon on the other side, which I was now positive, had been sent from my own personal hell.

He looked like me; his eyes were mine, his smile? Mine.

But that monster was not _me. _Never could I sink to such a level of cruel monstrosity. _Never would I become this murderer. _

And yet there he sat.

Calm and stoic.

And there he grinned, like the Devil himself.

**Sorry if it's a little confusing, let me know what you think, and if you want more or not! **

**Thanks for reading!**


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